Chapter 66: Sorry, My Hand Slipped

Old Deng looked at Qingluan and her companions, his gaze lingering on one person in particular. It was none other than Lin Cheng. Lin Cheng, a guard from the Duke Protector’s residence, had clearly already left a moment ago—so why had he returned? Moreover, judging by Lin Cheng’s demeanor and the women accompanying him, all of whom belonged to the Duke Protector’s household, could they have come because of Liunian? Old Deng could not help but wonder.

But in the next instant, he dismissed his suspicions. Lin Cheng did not even glance in their direction; he merely swept his gaze over them and then looked away. At the same time, the woman named Qingluan, whom Liunian had called out to, only turned her head with a look of confusion, as if she heard someone calling her, but there was no indication she recognized anyone. On the surface, it did not seem as if they had come for Liunian. Of course, it was possible that they were feigning ignorance. Yet, in Old Deng’s view, the people from the Duke Protector’s residence had no reason to stage such a performance for a beggar like Liunian.

Old Deng still did not believe Liunian’s claim. If he were truly the heir of the Duke Protector, how could he have ended up destitute and wandering the streets? Yet, seeing Liunian, even if he was not the heir, it seemed he must have some familiarity with the household—otherwise, how could he have called out Qingluan’s name with such accuracy? Old Deng pondered silently, outwardly betraying nothing, carefully observing Qingluan’s group.

As his gaze swept over Bai Shuxuan, his brow furrowed, as if he had sensed something. His lips parted as if to speak, but after a moment’s hesitation, he remained silent, his heart filled with uncertainty.

“A demon? A fox spirit, no less?” he mused. “Why is a fox demon with people from the Duke Protector’s residence...?” Suddenly, he remembered a rumor he’d heard back in Tianping Village: that the heir of the Duke Protector’s household had assisted the Lampbearer Division in capturing a fox demon. Could it be this very one? “She certainly looks harmless enough—perhaps she’s been tamed.”

Old Deng’s expression did not change, but inwardly he speculated. Compared to his own composure, the young man by his side, Liunian, could not contain himself. Ignoring the rain, Liunian dashed out from behind the haystack and ran toward Qingluan.

“Qingluan!” Liunian called out, waving desperately, on the verge of tears. He was sure Qingluan had heard the report from the guard and had come specifically to take him home. Not another day did he wish to spend suffering in the outskirts of the capital.

In his excitement, Liunian failed to notice the cool indifference on Qingluan’s delicate face.

“How do you know my name?” Qingluan suddenly asked in confusion as Liunian approached.

Liunian froze in utter disbelief, staring at her, unable to utter a word.

How do I know your name? How could you even ask that? Don’t you know I am the heir?

Liunian’s agitation was nearly impossible to suppress, the cold rain stinging his face as if slapping him awake. How could it be that after only a short time away, no one in the residence recognized him any longer? That an ordinary guard failed to know him, he could accept—but even Qingluan, with whom he had spent nearly every day, did not know him now?

What in the world was happening?

Utterly bewildered and frustrated, still reeling from the unresolved matter of the doppelganger and his own physical state, Liunian now faced Qingluan’s inexplicable behavior. It was too much to bear.

Faced with Qingluan’s gaze—cold, unfamiliar, as if she were looking at a stranger—anger surged uncontrollably within him.

“Qingluan!” he growled, his voice hoarse, nearly breaking with emotion. “Look at me! Do you not see who I am?”

He swept the rain-soaked hair from his forehead and wiped the grime from his face, determined to let Qingluan see his true features.

“Are you blind? You can’t even recognize me?”

Liunian glared at her, his eyes bloodshot from rage.

He expected her to realize her mistake the moment she saw his face, but instead, Qingluan’s expression only grew colder, her aura chilling, her eyes increasingly unfamiliar. “Are you courting death?” she sneered, an icy presence radiating from her fragile frame.

The air grew heavy, and Liunian felt his heart sink, his complexion turning pale. Old Deng squinted, noting Qingluan’s lack of further action and deciding not to intervene. This young man, Liunian, seemed to be suffering from delusions, convinced of his own identity as the heir. But if he truly were, why would the Duke Protector’s household fail to recognize him? Madness, thought Old Deng, shaking his head in dismay at what could have reduced Liunian to this state.

Qingluan shot him a sidelong glance, evidently unwilling to argue further. Her lips parted: “Your insolence alone, in the past, would have been enough for me to end you here, and none could object. You should thank the new laws of Great Zhou, which forbid the wanton killing of commoners.”

With that, she turned away, walking to the haystack’s edge to gaze at the rain falling in fine threads from the sky—cold and solitary.

This was a Qingluan Liunian had never seen before.

“Is this what happens after a single trip out of the residence? Has Qingluan truly changed so much? Or have I mistaken her for someone else?” The intimidation of her aura made Liunian wonder if perhaps he truly had the wrong person, for the Qingluan before him seemed nothing like the gentle, obedient companion he once knew.

He grew even more confused, unable to believe what was happening. Yet he comforted himself: perhaps in these months away he’d grown so thin and changed so much that Qingluan simply failed to recognize him. Once he returned to the Duke Protector’s residence with them, all would be set right.

So, he spoke again: “I apologize for my rudeness. But don’t you think I look somewhat like your young master?”

Since she did not recognize him, perhaps his features—though changed—should still bear a resemblance. Surely she could not be completely blind to it.

Qingluan turned and regarded him for a moment, seeming to acknowledge a similarity with a slight nod.

Liunian brightened immediately. “There, you see! There can’t be many people in the world who look so alike, can there? Why not bring me back to the Duke Protector’s residence to meet your young master? For all you know, we may be brothers by blood.”

He started enthusiastically, but by the end, his lips curled in barely restrained anger. What humiliation—to have to prove his identity by seeking kinship with a mere stableboy’s substitute. He silently swore that once he returned, he would see every last one of these people dead.

Despite the smile on his face, his eyes had grown dark and cold.

Behind him, Old Deng’s gaze had grown peculiarly skeptical. He felt he finally understood why this young man so fervently believed himself the heir—he must have learned what the young master looked like, noticed a resemblance, and thus gone about making wild claims. Was this not mere trickery? Old Deng sighed in disappointment; he despised such attention-seeking charlatans above all.

He had hoped to find an interesting youth, but in the end, it was all just empty bluster.

Liunian, heedless of Old Deng’s thoughts, cared nothing for the opinion of a mere beggar. If not for needing someone to steal sweet potatoes and help pass the time on the road to the capital, he would never have befriended such a man. Yet, after so many days together, there was some feeling between them. That promise to reward Old Deng with riches upon their return to the capital was sincere, not just empty words—Old Deng simply hadn’t seized the opportunity.

Now, Liunian’s only desire was to follow Qingluan back to the Duke Protector’s residence and set things right. But to his surprise, Qingluan did not agree to bring him back.

Her eyes grew colder. “You think you resemble the young master? What right does a beggar like you have to look like him? And you want me to take you back to the Duke Protector’s residence?”

The barrage of rhetorical questions left Liunian speechless, his face flushed with anger and shame. He wanted to lash out but checked himself, knowing the outcome would not be in his favor; Qingluan might not kill him, but she would certainly punish him. His means of self-preservation could save his life, but not protect him from a beating.

Swallowing his frustration, Liunian’s anger and confusion only grew. He decided to leave for now and return to the capital once the rain stopped, where he could contact his mother and prove his identity. He was curious to see what face Qingluan would show him then.

As he turned to leave, a gentle voice called out behind him, “Qingluan, this man does resemble the young master. Why not let him come with us to meet him in the capital?”

Hearing someone speak on his behalf, Liunian turned and saw a breathtakingly beautiful woman, her face veiled in white silk, step forward from behind Qingluan. She stood like a lotus in the rain, her beauty stark against the gray world. To Liunian, she was as fresh as a lotus petal washed by the morning dew, her skin fair as jade, her eyes bright as the stars, her nose elegantly sculpted, her lips like delicate petals, all the more alluring in the rain.

She wore a pale, embroidered robe that accentuated her graceful figure, her long hair loose and damp, strands clinging to her face and body, enhancing her charm. She carried no umbrella, letting the rain fall freely upon her, making her beauty all the more intoxicating. At a glance, Liunian felt his heart stir, drawn inexplicably toward her.

“Miss Bai, you...” Qingluan hesitated, unwilling to agree but unable to refuse the woman’s request. Bai Shuxuan smiled gently. “It’s nothing. The young master will not blame us. He might even be curious about someone who looks so much like himself. We only need to take an extra passenger—Lin Cheng can see to it.”

Liunian felt a sudden warmth at these words. Even if he were not the young master, Bai Shuxuan was still willing to help him. For someone always treated well only because of his status, this simple kindness moved him deeply, and his opinion of Bai Shuxuan soared.

Qingluan, unable to refuse further, nodded after a moment’s hesitation, adding, “We have few horses and can only take you, not your companion.” She referred, naturally, to Old Deng.

Old Deng smiled and waved it off. “Don’t mind me, I’m fine on my own.”

Liunian agreed readily. “Old Deng, take your time. Once I’m in the capital, I’ll send someone to fetch you.”

“Send someone?” Old Deng’s expression grew odd. He had already concluded that Liunian was a mere charlatan, and feared that once in the Duke Protector’s residence, he’d be executed by the real young master. Still, he cared somewhat for this youth with whom he’d once stolen sweet potatoes, and offered a word of warning: “No need to send anyone for me. Just be careful, and mind your tongue in the Duke Protector’s house. Not everyone there respects the laws of Great Zhou. Before true power, life is worth nothing.”

Liunian merely shrugged. He knew well enough how little life was worth before the truly powerful—for he himself was such a man. Every year, he’d killed countless people on a whim. He had never imagined someone would one day caution him to mind his words and actions. He nearly laughed at the irony, but for now had no choice but to acquiesce.

Old Deng, realizing his words had fallen on deaf ears, shook his head and fell silent, unwilling to meddle further. He had only been invited by Old Master Cheng to teach the young master martial arts and did not want to involve himself in this mess.

Liunian paid him no mind, his attention fixed on the ethereal Bai Shuxuan. “May I ask your identity, Miss Bai?”

Qingluan shot him an impatient glance. “Don’t pry. Her status is far beyond your imagination.”

“Oh...” Liunian’s brow twitched at her rebuke, fleeting murderous intent quickly suppressed as he bowed his head in submission. So, Bai Shuxuan’s identity was unfathomable, and she was close to Qingluan. Could it be...?

He recalled that before his escape from the residence, his mother had been selecting a marriage alliance for him. Due to his physical condition, he had never cared much for the matter. Was it possible that this Miss Bai was the very woman chosen by his mother?

The thought set his heart racing. His body might be frail, but his desires were not dead. It was not just Bai Shuxuan’s beauty, but also her willingness to speak up for him that drew him in. The longer he looked at her, the more enamored he became, longing to be closer to her. But now, lacking the protection of any loyal guards, and with Qingluan refusing to acknowledge his identity, he could only continue to bide his time. Once he returned to the residence and proved himself, there would be plenty of opportunities to get close to Miss Bai. He only hoped that the stableboy’s substitute had not made any inappropriate advances towards her—if so, he would make sure his death was not an easy one.

At this moment, Liunian had a premonition that all the changes in the residence—and even Qingluan’s failure to recognize him—might be orchestrated by that stableboy. The thought made him even more irritable.

Fortunately, Bai Shuxuan was here. Whenever he looked at her, he felt slightly intoxicated.

Qingluan, noticing how Liunian’s gaze lingered on Bai Shuxuan, found herself wondering if Cheng Guang had foreseen the real young master’s reaction when he sent her here. She could not fathom Bai Shuxuan’s true purpose, for she knew too little, and Cheng Guang had not explained things clearly. Though clever, her mind was now a muddle. In the end, she decided to simply follow Cheng Guang’s instructions, trusting his intelligence over her own. She had not yet realized how deeply this trust in Cheng Guang had grown.

“Let’s go,” she said, suppressing her confusion. With the rain easing, she wiped down her horse and mounted up. Bai Shuxuan and Hongzhu shared a horse. Liunian, wishing to ride with Bai Shuxuan, could only dream—he was relegated to sharing a horse with Lin Cheng instead.

The horses of the Duke Protector’s household were no ordinary beasts; each bore the bloodline of a rare creature and could cover a thousand miles in a day. Liunian thought, perhaps they would reach the capital by afternoon. But to his surprise, Qingluan and her party were not heading in the direction of the capital at all.

“Wait... isn’t this the wrong way?” he asked, growing anxious as the capital faded further behind them.

No sooner had he spoken than Lin Cheng impatiently smacked him on the head—a crisp, resounding blow.

“Why are you talking nonsense? We have matters to attend to outside the capital. If you want to return with us, you’ll have to wait until we’re done.”

Liunian was stunned by the blow, unable to speak, his face contorted in pain. He glared viciously at Lin Cheng, about to retort, only to receive another slap.

“Still glaring? Looking for a beating?” Lin Cheng delivered yet another slap, having restrained himself from hitting this beggar since the start. Were it not for the young master’s orders not to kill, he would have long since cut him down.

“I won’t glare anymore,” Liunian said, clutching his aching head and swallowing his pride. “You were enjoying yourself just now; how quickly you give in,” Lin Cheng scoffed. “If you’ve got a problem with me, say it—I don’t mind.”

Liunian dared not utter a word, keeping his head bowed, his fingers clenched, his whole body radiating humiliation.

Bastard! Bastard! He would have his revenge.

His nails dug into his palm, drawing blood, but the pain was nothing compared to his inner torment. Had he any means left of self-defense, he would never have tolerated such insolence from a mere servant.

Sitting in front of Lin Cheng, trapped in his arms, Liunian found it difficult even to breathe. He tried to lift his head for a breath of fresh air, but—

Smack!

“I didn’t even do anything!” Liunian protested, turning to Lin Cheng, his eyes filled with grievance.

“Oh, sorry, my hand slipped,” Lin Cheng said with a laugh, utterly unabashed.

Liunian fell silent, his lips trembling as if to speak, but in the end, he said nothing, merely lowering his head and casting a sidelong glance at Bai Shuxuan. Only she seemed to offer him any solace now.

Just then, Bai Shuxuan intervened. “Lin Cheng, don’t bully him. He’s just a beggar—have some pity.”

At this, Liunian’s eyes grew moist, his gaze toward Bai Shuxuan as devout as if she were a goddess come to rescue him.

Lin Cheng, too, gave an awkward chuckle. “I wasn’t bullying him—his head itched, so I helped him scratch it.”

Liunian involuntarily drew a shaky breath, his mouth twitching.

“Hmm?” Lin Cheng glanced down at him. “You have something to say?”

Liunian forced a laugh, his voice hoarse. “No, nothing. You’re so clever and considerate, always willing to scratch an itch for a beggar like me. I imagine the young master must be very fond of you.”

He wanted to mock Lin Cheng, but did not dare make it too obvious. He resolved to settle accounts once he returned to the capital.

To his surprise, Lin Cheng’s face darkened with melancholy. Sighing, he slapped Liunian’s head again. “You’re right—the young master does like me. But alas, I don’t warm his bed, so I can’t compete for his favor like certain others...”

Lin Cheng looked genuinely dejected, while Liunian was nearly driven mad.

If you must lament, do so—why the need to keep hitting my head!?

...

(End of chapter)